Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. “Time for my Patience,” she said. ’ ‘Merci, Gérard,’ Melusine muttered under her breath, adding aloud, ‘And the major, he will also wish that you let me go to see Jacques.
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